


I Want to Punch You in the Face (Softly, with My Mouth)

by arituzz



Series: Hate Me Like You Do [1]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angry Kissing, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Making Out, Secret Admirer, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 14:59:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13684032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arituzz/pseuds/arituzz
Summary: Baz hates Valentine’s day. (He doesn’t, he’s just sulky because he thinks his love is unrequited.)Simon hates love notes. (Luckily for him, Baz isn’t the romantic type.)Penny is fucking done with both of them.(In which Baz leaves Simon alcohol-induced post-it notes that he promptly mistakens for death threats. Awkward making out ensues.)





	I Want to Punch You in the Face (Softly, with My Mouth)

**Author's Note:**

> Please, don't try to do this at home.

It starts like most stupid things do — with a shitload of alcohol.

Baz and Fiona are celebrating their annual anti-Valentine’s Day in the apartment, the usual bottle of whisky soon becoming the star of the night.

“Fuck Valentines Day!” they cheer, clinking the glasses. Baz downs the liquor, knowing it’s a Wednesday, knowing it will shortly make him feel dizzy. Baz grimaces at the strong liquor. He still isn’t used to it, even after three years of tradition.

Fiona mimics him, a smug smile on her face, instead of a grimace. “So, what’s your love life status, Basil?” she asks him, pouring them a couple more glasses.

Baz crosses his legs, taking the glass. He’s wearing a suit, less because of the special occasion, but more because he would never miss the opportunity to wear one. “Well, if I had one I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

“Don’t tell me you’d buy into that capitalistic bullcrap,” Fiona says as she sits on the ground. Leaning on her right hand, she brings her left leg up, resting her elbow over her knee. Not because the sofa is uncomfortable, but rather because Fiona likes to constantly remind everyone how against the rules and the norm she is. Even when the rules are her own.

Baz chooses to answer her by finishing his glass in one gulp.

They talk about shared annoyances, like how irritatingly sentimental everyone tends to be this time of the year, or the ludicrous amount of sugary nonsense on TV.

Two glasses of whisky later, Fiona brings the topic again. She gives Baz’s leg a nudge and shifts to a lotus position, facing him from the floor.  “You’re different.”

Baz rests his head against the sofa’s back, avoiding her stare, and brings a hand to his forehead. “I’m just drunk.”

“Precisely,” Baz hears Fiona say. “Typically, it takes you more than one hour.” She pauses. “Could it be… You’re lovesick?”

“I’m not lovesick,” Baz mumbles in response. “Just let me get smashed in peace.”

“Oh my god, you _are,"_  Fiona says teasingly, as she sits on the sofa beside him. “Who’s the bloke?” She grabs Baz’s arm and removes it from his face, Baz flashes her his half-drunk, half-irritated expression. “Is it Niall from Chemistry?” she asks.

“Christ, no.”

“So there _is_ a bloke.” Fiona lets go of Baz’s arm, poking him in the side, in that spot below his ribs that only a very infuriating aunt would know it bloody tickles him.

“Fiona…” Baz moves as far on the sofa as he can away from her.

“Why don’t you send him a Valentine’s card?”

Baz hates Valentine’s cards as much as he hates the holiday _per se_ , mostly because they violate all three rules he tries to live by: 1) Bury your feelings. 2) Don’t buy into overrated shit. 3) Never trust advice that rhymes.

He cocks an eyebrow at Fiona. “What about that capitalistic bullcrap you were talking about?”

“I am willing to sacrifice my ideals,” Fiona says, tickling him again. “For my little lovesick nephew.” Drunk Fiona is, without any doubt, the worst kind of Fiona.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” Baz gives in, only so that she stops tickling him.

Fiona looks victorious. “You will?”

Baz nods. “With two conditions.” He raises his index finger. “One: promise me I won’t have to hear you call me your ‘little lovesick nephew’ ever again.”

“Done. What else?”

“No. You have to promise me,” Baz insists.

“What, you don’t trust me?”

“Of course not.” No one in their right mind would.

Fiona fakes a hurt face. “Fine. I promise. What’s the other condition?”

“No bloody cards… I’ll just write him a letter.”

Fiona smiles. “Old-fashioned. I like it.”

“So, uh… Do you have any paper?”

“Wait a sec.” Fiona leaves the living room and comes back after some minutes with a stack of pink post-it notes and a purple glitter pen. Baz makes a face, wondering why on earth she has that. “Mordelia’s,” she says, as if she’s read his thoughts. “Take it or leave it.”

Baz reluctantly takes the pen and the post-it notes and starts writing the ‘love confessions.’ A few cross-outs here and there. God, he’s bloody drunk. “What now?” he asks Fiona when he’s done.

“Now you show them to me.”

“Fuck no.”

Fiona snatches one of the post-its from Baz’s hand and reads it. “Sweet,” she says, smiling. “Now we give them to the receiver.”

“ _No_.”

“What’s the point of writing them, then?”

“To vent?”

“Wrong,” says Fiona. “Does he live on campus?”

Baz nods.

“Do you know his dorm room?”

“Yes.”

“Is it near yours?” asks Fiona.

“Sort of.”

“Let’s go then.”

Even considering the state he’s in, Baz knows he will regret it in the morning. “ _Fine_.”

\---

“Isn’t this _your_ room?” Fiona asks as they arrive to the dorm.

“Maybe.”

“Jesus,” she says, laughing. “You have a big, fat crush on the Dean’s son.”

“I wouldn’t call it _big, fat, crush_ ,” Baz complains. “Just annoying, unfortunate, infatuation.”

“Same difference.”

At the same time Baz is about to open the door, he sees Simon appearing at the corner of the hallway. “Fuck,” he mutters, grabbing Fiona’s arm and dragging her to the opposite corner. “We can’t leave them there, he’ll catch us.”

“Any other idea?” Fiona whispers.

“Well, he has a locker on the second floor… But Uni is closed at this hour.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Fiona says, giving him a typical Pitch, devilish smile.

Without much trouble, they get to the second floor of the University, probably breaking a few laws in the process.

Baz quickly spots Simon’s locker and enters the combination: 19-3-15-14-5-19.

“I’ll spare you the trouble of telling me how you know that,” says Fiona.

“It spells out ‘scones’,” Baz says nonchalantly.

He sticks the post-it notes on the inside walls of the locker and then they promptly leave.

*******

Simon doesn’t really like Valentine’s day. He used to celebrate it when he was going out with Agatha, but it mostly felt like an obligation. Plus, writing love confessions in a pink card is kind of stupid.

Simon is sure his roommate, Baz, has a secret lover somewhere. He’s always out for Valentine’s day and comes back late in the night, drunk as fuck.

He talks about it with Penny, during breakfast.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t think he’s got any lover… He doesn’t look like it.”

Penny doesn’t like Valentine’s day, she thinks it’s a corporate, consumerist holiday to trick people into buying more for no reason. And she’s probably right. But that didn’t stop her from skyping all night with her boyfriend, Micah.

“What about you?” Penny asks. “What did you do this year?” _Now that you are single_ , she doesn’t say, but Simon can hear it anyway.

Simon shrugs. “I stayed with Ebb.”

“You stayed all night in the library?”

“You sound judgmental.”

“No, I’m proud,” she says. “And a bit jealous.”

 ---

When they’re done with breakfast, Penny accompanies Simon to his locker, so he can take all the things he needs for the next class.

As Simon opens the locker, a paper comes out flying.

“What’s this?” Penny asks, taking it. “ _If I had a week to tell you all the bad things I want to do to you, I still wouldn’t have enough time_ ,” she reads. “Holy fuck. Who’s written this?”

“No idea,” says Simon, astonished. “Wait, there’s more inside.” There are like ten post-it notes stuck on the walls of Simon’s locker. “It’s all chicken scratch. And it’s full of erasures. _I love you,”_ he reads. “And then there’s the word ‘not’ added in brackets.” Simon takes another one. _“You make me want to stab myself with_ … something crossed out… I think it says something about mouth? This is weird.”

Penny approaches and takes some of the notes. “Oh look, this one doesn’t have any erasures.”

“What does it say?”

“ _If there was a zombie apocalypse, I would kill you last_ ,” Penny reads. “Here’s another one,” she says, reading another note, “ _There’s no one else I’d rather annoy the shit out of_.” Penny brings a hand to her chin. “I think these are…”

Simon nods. “Death threats.”

“ _No_ ,” Penny says, making a face and shaking her head. “I think they’re some kind of twisted love confessions.”

“They’re clearly death threats, Penny,” says Simon. “Look at this one: _You are going to die kissing me_.”

“My point exactly,” she says, crossing her arms. “This person just wants to kiss you…”

“It’s a code, Penny,” Simon insists. “They want to give me the kiss of death. _AKA_ they want to kill me,” he explains. “And this note literally says _I’d kill you_.”

“Let me see,” says Penny. Simon hands her the note and she reads it. “There’s something crossed out in the middle,” she says, holding it up against the light. “It says _I’d kill_ to be with _you_.”

Simon ignores her. He has bigger problems—like trying to figure out who the author of the creepy notes is. “Penny, I need to know who’s sent me these.”

“Agreed.” Her lips curl up into a crooked smile.

“I’m going to interrogate everyone and make them confess,” he decides.

“Everyone in campus? Are you going to interrogate 23 thousand students?” says Penny. “I think there are more efficient ways, Simon.”

“I suppose I could hide in the locker and surprise them.”

“There’s no way you can fit in there.”

Simon shrugs. “I can try.”

“I have a better idea.”

\---

The next day Penny brings a mini-camera. Simon doesn’t tell her about the new post-it note: _Roses are red, violets are blue, you have a nice butt._

“What do you have this for?” he asks.

“Trixie, obviously.”

They set up the camera inside Simon’s locker, so that they will see if anyone opens it.

It’s not until the evening that they discover it. It’s late and they are in Simon’s room. Simon is about to tell Penny that she should leave before Baz catches her in the room, when she says, “Simon. You want to see this.”

Simon walks out of the bed and gets to Penny’s side on the desk. Baz’s face is right there on the laptop’s screen. He’s looking at both sides, a post-it note on his hand.

“I bloody knew it,” Simon says.

Penny looks stupefied. “Baz? Is your secret admirer?”

“Baz is my secret _menace_ ,” Simon corrects. “I’ll go confront him right now.”

“Simon…”

“Stay here.”

\---

“Baz,” Simon yells as he approaches him. “I knew it was you.”

Baz freezes, the note he had on his hand slipping through his fingers and falling onto the floor.

“Why?” Simon asks.

Baz visibly swallows.

“Why?” Simon repeats. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“Uhm. You’re insufferable?”

Simon feels the anger running through his body. He grabs Baz by the collar and pins him against the locker. “I know it’s you who’s been sending me death threats.”

Baz swallows again. “Well, what are you going to do about it?” he says, smugly.

“I—” Simon hasn’t really thought this through. _What is he going to do?_

“Cat got your tongue?” Baz spits, placing both his hands on Simon’s hair, tugging at it, as if he wants to yank it all out by the roots. Simon strengthens his grip on Baz’s shirt and inches closer to his face.

Simon places one of his legs between Baz’s, so he’s sure he can’t escape. Simon doesn’t miss Baz’s eyes momentarily opening in surprise.

“What are you going to do, Simon?”

Simon lets go of Baz and starts pacing about, because he doesn’t _know_. He doesn’t have a bloody clue about what to do. Frustrated, he runs his hands through his hair and neck and goes back to Baz, who’s still against the locker, staring at him.

Simon acts impulsively: One hand turns into a fist, throwing a blow that’s not directed at Baz but the locker. Baz flinches and closes his eyes. Simon’s other hand tugs at Baz’s tie. _I’ve got you now_ , he thinks. And then he kisses him.

(If you call awkward clashing of mouths _kissing_.)

Simon pushes at Baz’s mouth, moving their lips together, his leg finding its way back between Baz’s thighs. Baz pushes back, holding Simon’s face in place with both his hands. Simon retaliates by shoving his tongue past Baz’s lips. He tilts his head to the side so he can deepen the kiss. Simon’s free hand fists Baz’s hair, needing something else to grab onto.

Simon thrusts up against Baz, making him moan softly. He bites Baz’s lower lip and thrusts up again, tightening his grip on Baz’s hair and tie. The moan comes louder this time.

Simon abandons Baz’s mouth and proceeds to suck at his neck, then his ear. “Simon…” Baz whimpers every time Simon presses his body against him.

Baz’s hands cup Simon’s butt, pulling him closer.

At the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway, they let go of each other. “Uhm…” Simon starts. “We should, maybe…”

“Room?” Baz suggests, panting.

“Yeah… Wait. No,” Simon says, remembering Penny. Baz’s lips turn into a small pout. “I mean, we can’t go to our room,” Simon explains.

At this, Baz arches an eyebrow at him. “Why not?”

“Penny’s there…”

Baz doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he says in a hoarse voice, “Do you want to…” He looks to the side as he clears his throat. “My aunt has an apartment.”

Simon nods and follows Baz to the car.

*******

Penny finds Simon the next morning for breakfast. “So? What did Baz say?”

“Uhhh…” Simon runs a hand through his hair. “It was just a misunderstanding,”

 _Liar_. “Right,” Penny says, pursing her lips. “A misunderstanding.”

“It’s okay now.”

 _Way more than okay_ , Penny thinks. “Sure,” she says. But Simon is delusional if he thinks she’s going to spare him the suffering. “So, I assume the kissing was good?”

“What?” Simon’s scone falls out of his mouth and onto the table.

“You’re wearing Baz’s clothes. And you forgot about the camera.”

“Shit,” he says, grabbing the scone. “I’m so sorry, Pen.”

“I stopped watching after the first five seconds. It was too pitiful,” she says. “But you still owe me.”

Baz appears into the dining hall, a cup of tea on his hand. Simon waves at him. He frowns but comes anyway. “Snow.” He sits beside him, in front of Penny. “Bunce.”

Penny nods at him.

Simon looks like he’s biting his cheeks to keep himself from smiling. Baz tries to look bothered but his face betrays him. And Penny would swear they’re holding hands under the table.

She can’t believe they were so _thick_. But… everything makes so much more sense now.

-FIN-

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Also, that missing smut scene? Yeah, I might write it one of these days ;)


End file.
